Chapter 21 Natural Feeling
Natural Feeling
Collins
As we park in front of my childhood home, every emotion under the sun is pulsing beneath my veins. My hand taps away on the steering wheel as I ponder if we should just turn around and drive back to my place.
Warmth envelops my hand, and Harley draws my attention away from the thoughts, “It’ll be okay. They’re excited to see you, it might be awkward at first, but I think that’s to be expected. Plus, I’ll be here, ready to support you in whatever way you need.”
“Okay, it’s weird being back here after all this time.”
“That’s a natural feeling too. Hopefully, it can feel like home again for you soon.”
“I already have a home and it’s with you,” I tell her, a pink hue paints the apples of her cheeks, and she gives me that shy smile I love so much.
“Maybe this can feel like a happy place again. Better?”
“I’ll take it. Let’s go, I think I’ve stalled enough.” I hop out of the truck and jog around to help Harley out. Immediately taking her hand, to keep me grounded as we approach the brick home with a bright blue front door that mom insisted was a stylistic choice.
I knock twice, and the door swings open almost immediately. We’re greeted by my parents and the smells of what I think is homemade spaghetti—something my mom cooked often when we were growing up, even shredding a block of parmesan herself.
Mom’s lip begins to quiver immediately, and my dads grip around her arm tightens in support.
“Hi.” I try to smile at them, but my head feels foggy, I know I’m here with them but it doesn’t feel real.
“Hi! You made it.” While her lip still quivers, my mom smiles back at me.
She opens her arms to me, and I don’t know if I can handle her arms around me but I don’t want to deny her this moment.
Harley gently squeezes my hand, encouraging me before letting it go so I can step forward into my mom’s embrace.
“Hello, Mr. McKee. I’m Harley.” Harley introduces herself to my dad while my mom clutches me closely like I may slip through her fingers, like my brother did all those years ago.
“Francis, honey I think you might be suffocating him,” my dad teases.
“Oh, right, sorry.” She steps back wiping her hands down her apron, “supper is just about ready if you all want to have a seat at the dining table.”
“Do you need any help?” Harley offers.
“No, sweetie but thank you.” Mom responds with a tenderness in her voice, like she can already tell the type of person Harley is and that she’s perfect for me. How can she know that when she doesn’t even know me anymore? I’m not quite sure, maybe mother'’s intuition.
Mom turns on her heel, heading to the kitchen and my father follows closely behind her, I assume, ensuring she’s okay and giving me a moment to process as well.
I grasp Harley’s hand again, guiding her further into the house and observing all of the details.
Honestly, it seems as if nothing’s changed, pictures line the walls, it smells the same—clean like lemons, and the only change I’ve noticed is they’ve gotten a new couch.
“It’s basically the same,” I observe.
“A home well-loved and lived in doesn’t need constant changing,” Harley responds.
I think her underlying message is that when people go through a traumatic experience, they hang on to every thread of that old life.
The life where that person was still around, or when they hadn’t gone through that experience.
We continue further into the home, veering right into the dining room, where I pull out Harley’s seat, taking the one beside her.
“Do you two drink sweet tea?” My dad asks, poking his head out of the kitchen entryway.
“Yep,” I say while Harley confirms with a nod.
“You doing okay?” she asks quietly.
“Oddly enough, I feel comfortable. There isn’t the tension like I expected. Sadness sure but that I knew would linger being here again.”
“Good.” She pecks me on the cheek before my parents join us. Carrying spaghetti, garlic bread, a salad, and drinks for us.
“Thank you, everything looks delicious,” Harley expresses.
“I hope it tastes as good as it looks.” My mom chuckles.
“If it’s anything like when I was younger, I’m sure its going to be wonderful,” I add in.
We pass platters around, eating quietly for a bit before my dad speaks up, “Son, how’s the season going?”
“Don’t play coy, Ken, you know how the season’s going and don’t even try to hide the fact that you have his jersey in your closet.” Mom calls my dad out, and he chokes on a piece of garlic bread.
“You do?” I ask, my head spinning because all this time I thought they hadn’t been paying attention to my career.
Once Dad’s got his bearings back, he speaks, “Um… Yeah we’ve watched every game you’ve played. Seems like you guys are on track for a cup win and Hoyer seems to be doing very well fitting in as well.”
“Yeah, we’ve all been working our asses off to get into the finals again.
I think we’ve got it in the bag this year.
” My voice filling the area with palpable excitement over the fact that we might get our second cup win in two years and over the fact that my parents have been supporting my team silently for years.
“They’ve been incredible on the ice. You both should join me for a game one night.” Harley recommends, she knows I’d love to have all three of them in the stands cheering me on.
“We’ll have to arrange that. What is it that you do for work, Harley?” Mom questions.
“Oh, I’m a licensed mental health counselor. I work at the Right Place, Right Time center with troubled youth and kids.”
“That must be a difficult job,” Dad comments.
“It’s got its ups and downs but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
I’ve known for a very long time that I wanted to help people; I just hadn’t pinpointed what community.
I interned with them in my undergrad, and it solidified that was the community I wanted to work with.
Then they offered me a job with flexibility while I finished school and I haven’t looked back.
” The passion that Harley carries into her career can be heard in every word she speaks.
“Sounds like you’ve got a good one.” My mom sounds thrilled.
“I intend to keep her forever if she’ll have me.” I smile at my mom, then at my girl.
Her cheeks taking on that pink blush again, “I think I like the sound of that.”
After finishing dinner, we move to the living room, chatting about life and recalling memories we had as a family before Mom forces freshly baked chocolate chip cookies onto us. When the sun starts to set, we decide it’s time to head out.
“Thank you for tonight. I hope we can do it again.” Harley thanks my parents as she steps away from a hug.
“Please! You are both welcome anytime.” My mom states happily.
“Thanks again,” I say, hugging my mom and then my dad.
“I’m proud of you, son. Thank you for giving us another chance,” My dad says just for me, and it causes my eyes to well with tears once again.
“See you guys later.”